Page 46 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Miss Martin, with her far shorter stride, soon fell behind the crowd.

When she did, Andrew dropped back to walk beside her.

***

Stacia was hunched over and walking at a full trot to keep up when she saw booted feet fall in beside hers.

She looked up to find Lord Shelton smiling down at her. “How is your patient?”

“Patient?” she repeated stupidly, her heart pounding.

“The dog.”

“Oh. Yes, well, Mr. Higgins believes he will be fine after a week of rest.”

“That is good news.”

“Yes, it is.” She bit her lower lip.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you made this expression”—he caught his lower lip with his teeth and pulled a mournful face.

She caught her laugh just in time. “I did not.”

“Did so.”

She just shook her head and tried to suppress her smile. Of course she failed.

“So, what is wrong?”

“Have you ever been told that you were pertinacious?”

“I don’t know. Is that another word for handsome?” He grinned.

This time she couldn’t hold back her laugh. “There is nothing wrong, I am just concerned about what will happen to the little dog.”

“Lady Addiscombe does not need a lapdog.”

Stacia snorted at the thought of her rigid employer even allowing such an unprepossessing little mutt into her townhouse. “She is not fond of dogs. Or cats. Or birds.” Or people.

“How astonishing,” he said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

Stacia didn’t respond to his comment, already feeling guilty over her disloyal words.

“If he is a good ratter, maybe Higgins will keep him,” the marquess suggested.

“I asked and they don’t need him. There are four terriers already, not to mention all the other dogs.”

“Hmm. Maybe you could try and find his owner?”

“He is terribly thin. I think he has been on his own for quite some time.”

“Still, it could not hurt to put the word out in the village. Perhaps at the post office and the Weasel,” he said, using the locals’ name for the small pub.

“Oh. I had not thought of that.”